Thursday, October 29, 2009

The Many Years of Boo's. Pt2

I awoke in the middle of the night with triggered memories-probably from my costume trip down memory lane. Suddenly I remembered 2 key factors to my costume reverie.

First, when I was that amazing Dracula...and was so very happy, with my makeup, fangs, cape, blood...forgot to mention the nails. I had black, LONG press-on nails! It was the ultimate...the only thing that sucked was I couldn't eat. Mostly, it was my fault because I didn't want to take the fangs out...and the nails made it impossible to eat chicken wings. This is when I vowed to NEVER have long nails because they inhibit eating...and I likes to eat.:)

Second, being one who isn't quick to give up...I attempted to slut-it-up another time. I was in my early 20's...post college. I was Nava-ho and was going to 2 parties. I parted my hair and put in it in 2 long braids, had a leather headband, feather earrings, a suede skirt...that had a slit, but was respectable, I had a low cut top that was pretty slutastic...but because I lack the 'gene' I wore a poncho over it all- wearing that most of the night....AND I wore some moccasin boots. It was cute, and I guess I was sexy because this dude I knew got all ass-grabby (we were barely peeps and this was his way of showing interest. yes, he was supposedly a grown.ass.man)and had to be checked. Due to dancing, I had to take the poncho off..and it was off when I met (one of the many times we've met) Mark Ronson. At the time he was the boyfriend in my head. Something about the nose, the forlorn stare and the fact that I hated him n' his wack DJ'ing- his parties were cool, but I found them pretentious. Then he got better...he got sweaty...it became about music, not popping bottles. We would bump into each other outside of clubs, and the love grew. Awww.
So, I go to chat with M.Ron...and am completely nervous because my cleavage is showing. He is talking, but I am in my head wondering if he thinks I'm a slut (oh the 20's...so insecure). He is wondering if I'm okay because I am shifty and inching AWAY from him.. Finally I mumble something and just run away.
That was the VERY.LAST.TIME I tried the slut thing. Tsk. Tsk.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Many Years of Boo's.

From what I am told, Halloween is for kids, sluts and White people. I find that last part hilarious because I know plenty people of color who get into the ghoulish spirit- growing up we would have big Halloween bashes every other year. My parents were way into props, music and pranks- except when done to them. Hmmm.
As a kid, I LOVED Halloween because of the costumes- eff the candy. Have never really been a candy girl...hahahah figuratively and literally.
...but the idea of makeup and fantasy intrigued me. So this shall be a costume trip down memory lane and will further prove my slut-lacking capabilities- actually a friend and I had a serious conversation about the 'slut gene'. It will be scientifically proven one day...some day.

I won't pretend to remember what my parents dressed me as pre-crawling, walking n' such. Knowing them, there were probably no Halloween celebrations because being the semi-logical beings they are, they figured I wouldn't know what the fuck was going on and would be scared shitless. Christmas- yes, Halloween- nah.
Being a natural grump and shy kid...when I could walk n' talk and was asked what I wanted to be for Halloween I shrugged. Probably mumbled something and asked to watch Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' because he was my boyfriend. Even with pre-school, I had no interest in the holiday...till first grade. This was when I wayyyy into Snoopy, Strawberry Shortcake...and GARFIELD! That cat spoke to my soul. All he wanted to do was eat and chill the fuck out. Then that stupid dog (Odie) would come along and Garfield would make him do stupid things for a laugh. *sigh* So, I was Garfield. I wore my costume for the entire week of Halloween and my mom had to have a heart-to-heart to get me to give up the costume. Would've worn it everyday if I could've. My mom simply said, there will another Halloween next year. This excited me. Even though I knew I would just be Garfield again....but then I watched Fright Night-yeah my parents were believers in eye covering, but thought I should watch horror films. Would keep me humble....or imaginative or something....
I was invited to a Halloween party...my second. Another party with girls dressed as princess's, belly dancers, ballerina's...and me in FULL vampire makeup (including drawn in widow's peak, my hair was back in a french braid AND blood dripping from my lips!!!), fangs, cape, a white button-up and black slacks. Sure, I got strange looks from the girls my age, the boys thought it was cool and I was in 7th heaven!

The following years were filled with more monsters and non-'girly' things. Also went through the teenage phase where I hated EVERYTHING- including Halloween, so I didn't celebrate it. No costumes, just pranks. I would help my parents with the parties and my brother with his costumes.
Then I went away to college where I learned about the slut aspect of Halloween. Even attempted by being a cat. All black Lycra. Heels. Ears. Tail.
....of course I had to do makeup...and I really took.it.there so I lost some of slutability. This would be the time I realized I could never be a slut. Just don't have it me. Like I want to....especially in college...and even NOW sometimes, but I just can't do it. Something about thinking too highly of myself...thinking too much (in general)...and the follow-through.

In recent years, Halloween and I have been touch n' go. Sometimes I get into it, and other times I'm like...meh. I've been Jem and the Holograms (with peeps), a drag queen, Eve (and my friend was Gwen Stefani)....and there were a few others, but I can't remember right now.
This year...I am sticking with what I know. Makeup. Fun. Drag queens. Going to pull it all together...and remember that Halloween is about the FUN!...and the pointing n' laughing at sluts (male n' female).

Thursday, October 22, 2009

True Story: Recent Conversations pt 2

OMG! OMG! Sometimes I really, really LOVE New York. Here are 2 separate dialogues/NYC moments that occurred TODAY!!!

NY moment 1:

There I am, just walking down the street. Wind in hair, shades on face. Two gays are coming towards me. One is a tall Black guy with the Rihanna hair cut and the other was a shorter White guy. They are nudging each other and speaking in quick whispers as they near me. I begin getting self conscience about my lack of OUTFIT. Ugh. Just had on ripped boyfriend jeans, fringe Ugg style boots (no, no they're cute though), orange tee and a gray short leather bomber. Relaxed. What Halle (as in Berry) would wear to Kitson in LA. HA!

White Gay: You've got some pretty hair girl.
Me: (shocked) Thanks...
Black Gay: Uh hunh...(looks me up and down) you're fierce.
Me: Wow...I am...but how can you tell?
Black Gay: I can just tell. Its in the eyes.
Me: (remember I have on shades, chuckle) Awesome, thanks guys. Have a good one...
White Gay: Oh we will honey! Stay fierce!
Black Gay: Stay fierce!
Me: You too!

NY Moment 2:

Okay, now this next occurrence happened on the Q train, and is going up there as one of my favorite NYC/train moments! It begins with me getting a seat...well this dude was being a GENTLEMAN and was like hey, take my seat. He didn't think I was pregnant (whew), was just.being.nice??? WHAT?? It took me a bit to accept his seat offer- he almost physically placed me in the seat! Once I sit down (headphones on), I notice a dude standing by the door and he appears to be beat boxing. He has on NO headphones. He is miming drums. He is a White dude with a mulleted haircut...with a bang. He has on a black polo...with a popped collar. You see HOW many things are wrong with this picture. I purposely turn off my iPod to listen, wanted to see if he was any good. HE SUCKED. He sucked so much peeps were laughing. This one woman was holding her head and looking pleadingly at her friend...who in turn laughed harder. There was a Justin Timberlake look a like-he was shorter, but HOT- who turned off his iPod as well to listen. He then looked at me and this other chick and was like 'sorry' and 'what.the.fuck?'. I *hearted* the shorter JT because he apologized for his White douchebag brethren. The beat boxer just kept going, seemingly oblivious. I then text The Rabbi AKA The Darkness asking if it is HIS fault that this dude is beat boxing. The Rabbi is a good beat boxer and likes to teach...I will put him into a HEAD LOCK if he's responsible.
Then IT happened. Short and sweet, but quite possibly perfect.

The Beat Boxer: (spitting and doing the same retarded beat with his mouth, he is also bopping his head)

Random Dude On Train Who Happened To Be Black And Looked Like He Might Be Able To Kick Your Ass: (calmly) Shut the fuck up.

The Beat Boxer: (stops)

...aaaannnnddd...SCENE!

I.Love.New.York.

True Story: Recent Conversations pt 1

Originally posted on October 13th, but...uh...not here.

I am forever doing character study. Quietly observing, some call it judging, but to judge you’d have to give a f*ck. From what I’ve learned about people, when you don’t give a f*ck they tend to earnestly like you more. Such is life.
Since I am in constant character study mode, I can remember dialogue verbatim. It’s a gift really. I remember each nuance from intake of breath or darting of eyes. Makes one almost feel like they were there…when I am telling my long detailed stories that leave peeps on the edge of seats, they are also wondering why I am so ‘rain man’ with the deets. Again, a gift.

This first conversation took place at a Duane Reade recently. Sometimes I wonder why I write fiction because my reality is way more interesting.
Random Dude At Duane Reade: (stops in his tracks, his friends stop with him-which is what makes me notice, they are all staring in my direction-thinking they are talking about someone behind me) Wow, she is pretty.

Friend 1: Sure is.
Friend 2: Word. (the two friends move along, RDADR lingers a little longer, I go back to looking at lotions)
[I walk online reading about all the amazing things my new lotion is going to do for my skin, I hear RDADR and friends chatting. The chatting stops when they stand behind me on line]
Friend 1: There she is.
RDADR: (stands a lil too close to me causing me to look up from my lotion benefits reading) You are beautiful, real pretty in the face. (says with amazement)
Me: Uh, thanks. (after a moment) Why do you seem shocked?
Friend 2: You have a nice body too. (smiles, even after RDADR gives him a dirty look)
Me: Great. I’m a ten. (they laugh)
RDADR: I’m sorry I seem shocked, its just that you’re really pretty, but you’re not all done up.
Me: Yes a natural beauty I am. (something about lotion causes me to just be all fast n’ loose with it)
Friend 1: …and humble too.
Me: Yes, and I can put together complete sentences. (they all chuckle realizing that I am just sarcastic, not a conceited twat)
RDADR: Wait a minute…you seem familiar…
Me:…because I am your dream girl?
RDADR: No…well…maybe (smiles). I think I’ve actually hit on you before, at a Starbucks.
Me: I’m always in one of those…(I look at him a bit, he doesn’t look familiar)
Friend 2: You must be consistently pretty then.
Me: On my ugly days I don’t leave the house, what’s the point of not getting hit on…
RDADR: Yeah it was definitely you because when I asked if I could meet you for coffee sometime you said that your husband wouldn’t like it and when I noticed you had no ring, you said he didn’t put a ring on it, but put a down payment on a boat and you two were going to live on it…in Jersey.
Friend 1: Damn you’re married.
Me: Wow, you have a great memory..and that sounds like me.
RDADR: It was you.
Me: Yeah….(whispers) awkward. (is next up to pay) Well…
RDADR: I’m sure I’ll see you again-I hope. If you’re husband isn’t with you-
Me: He’s working on the boat…
RDADR: Yeah. Well if he isn’t with you, you owe me coffee.
Me: Wow.
Friend 2: Way to go, Ike. (as in Ike Turner)
RDADR: I’m just sayin’, he shouldn’t let you out alone so much.
Me: Will let him know, the streets is watching. (they laugh)
RDADR: Damn right.

…And Scene!

Can’t make that kinda stuff up. The next conversation took place via gchat with a gentleman I’ll call E. E and I have a hilarious friendship dynamic that borders on nonexistent sexual tension. It’s quite lovely. Our conversations are random and quick, and usually take place on gchat or via text.

Me: where have you been all my life?

E: what do you mean? im staring right at you..!

Me: its weird you still seem so far away

E: i watch from a distance... i prefer to observe you un-obstructed in your natural habitat

Me: ahh that is best. keeps one from being kicked or stabbed

E: i love it when you do that...yea that… keep doing it just typing and staring at the screen ...ohhh that's good

Me: see its not all hate and violence. there are the tender quiet moments when you stalk me from afar
and contemplate taking my skin

E: it puts the lotion on...

Me: (shivers)

E: haha


….tender moments. Cannot wait to creepily remember more awkwardly wonderful conversations!

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Consequence of Wit and Other Lessons

Here I am again. All pensive and in-between gigs. This is a time where I dabble in low self esteem and self pity as I send out resume`s. Resume`s filled with great ACTIVE words, and that illuminate my lack of career greatness. Perhaps it's because its not the career I seek.
I want to write, y'all...and get paid for it.
...but I live in New York City and need to maintain a LIFE. I need employment that doesn't rape my soul and won't distract me from my book writing and character observations.:)
...BUT this isn't about my job search and how I am done with it, this is about a few new things I've learned recently. Though I feel intelligent most of the time, I am a believer in knowing that you know nothing at all is true intelligence. You realize this and take notes. File it for later use and don't make the same mistakes again...unless there are things you cannot help, like being witty.

Lesson 1: Being witty doesn't get you laid- woah...*ahem* doesn't get you far in the love game. I'm thinking it's not becoming of a lady to crack one liners and just be hilarious- like myself. Throw in the fact that I say things off-the-cuff and you have me being scary, or just...too much. I cannot change this. It is who I am and how I do...which leads me to Lesson 2.

Lesson 2: Movies can do more than entertain they can teach you about yourself and perhaps others. Coco Before Chanel- great movie! there was France, clothes and Audrey Tatou-, Coco didn't believe in love and all of the things it involved (i.e. marriage, forever, etc.). Then she fell in love, but it wasn't perfect. He had to marry someone else for money. Coco then declared that she would never be any man's wife, but could be someones mistress (as in the love of her life who was marrying someone else). Though I could never be a mistress, could I be some man's wife? Would I ever be? Perhaps it isn't in the cards for me-I already don't adhere to the societal norms of being a single woman in her 30's. Am not a desperate banshee waiting for a man, ANY man to come my way and save me from being alone, childless and worthless to the WORLD!!! So glum.
Then I wound up at a JC Penny trying on rings that looked like they could be engagement rings/ wedding bands. I looked GOOD in these rings and realized that YES, I will be someones special someone because I look damn good in the rings! Really, doesn't matter the cut, I can WORK.IT!

Lesson 3: People who don't eat or have ill feelings towards food are the WORST to be around. They find no joy in life and are usually miserable. If I don't succeed with my 'ring quest' therefore making my life worth living, I will live like Ina Garten AKA The Barefoot Contessa. Have a lovely house and cook amazing food for all my gays, and just be so HAPPY that I'll make them hungry bitches shiver in their skinny jeans.
This lesson became more clear to me this passed Sunday as I along with some friends enjoyed AMAZING dim sum at The Golden Unicorn. We proudly ordered about 21 dishes amongst the 5 of us...and then spoke of getting cupcakes afterward. During our gleeful inhaling of dim sum, we were being glared at by some Hungries. Sometimes you have to share a table at The Golden Unicorn. The Hugries nibbled at like 4 dishes, not finishing ONE and just seemed hostile and disgusted with life. My friends and I had a great time laughing about them as we digested (and after they left)....then laughed some more as we walked to the West Village for cupcakes (NOT at Magnolia-*spits*).

I may be 'alone', but I am hilarious...well fed and look good in engagement rings. We'll see how this all pans out.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

The Place Where I Work: Casting The Net

Previously, I've written about a magical place that I sometimes work at, where we watch soccer and about 85% of the dudes are HOT (check the I *heart* Dudes and Near Death and Ass Play blogs for reference).
I am working in that magical soccer place again today, and it truly has been magical. For one reason or another I've felt pretty glum about the whole me and dudes thing...and I can't turn to lesbianism because I don't like women that much, and I hate dudes but they are dudes...and I can't be a nun because I am pervy and like to curse, plus I like dudes. Just going through this hopeless thing where I feel hideous and that I am not as sexy as I think.
Again, its just a moment. By the end of the week I'll be back to promoting my loveliness and fantastic capabilities.
For now...I have the dudes here at the magical place to remind me that things will be alright with the world.
...of course then there's Justin Fingerbang who acts like most dudes and wants nothing to do with me because My Future Ex (his competition) is no longer here so I am no longer a hot commodity. *sigh* He is still hot though, in that douchey-yet he has a great ass kinda way.
In to save the day is none other than The Matador. Remember when I thought he disliked me- well just had no use for me, but tolerated me because Dracul was enamored. I was wrong! The Matador seemed almost gleeful I was back. He with his stylish trench coat-collar up, pink tie, cashmere cobalt blue sweater and slim grey slacks. Love a guy who can put together colors, yet not be a total pretty boy. The Matador is man, a man of Brazilian decent- I only know this cuz he thought I was Brazilian (really? people? COME ON!) and I had to sadly let him know I wasn't, but he could pretend I was. He liked that.
The Matador was just the friendliest guy ever today, a total 180 from before. I wonder if Dracul hypnotized him to treat me better- saw Dracul around 4:45pm today. That guy never fails to amaze with his vampire-like ways.
Everyone loves The Matador too because he is just really nice, but not phony with it-suddenly am thinking of Brazilian cheese bread. Ugh. Am hungry!!!! Had soup for lunch today because I was sooo hungry I couldn't think of anything else to eat.
Justin Fingerbang looked on in disbelief as I crumbled a corn muffin into my bisque- so delish! I explained to him that I forgot to get breakfast, just had coffee. He still didn't understand. I told him it was sooo good because I was having a shrimp n' roasted corn n' pepper bisque. He still wasn't getting it, so I kindly asked him to walk away- in my head I was thinking...so I can look at your ass. *sigh*
Anywho, The Matador knew where my head was at- it could also be that I am wearing fishnets. Something about fishnets causes certain men to feel a certain way.
Like, I am walking to Starbucks to get afternoon coffee and I get hit on by this German-Brit who works for Google. He was bold, and because of his accent, I believed him when he told me I was beautiful.
Awww. I'm telling you, if I didn't have on fishnets- no dudes. No random international geeky playboys trying to holler. No Matadors being so unbelievably great that I consider- OH DAMN.
Justin Fingerbang is really something. He purposely starts this conversation about team sports with this chick who claims she is a natural athlete. Good on her. I was more interested in hearing about JF playing soccer and how he works out at the 92nd Y- note to stalker self, new hang out. They go on and on, and I stay silent because I am typing this and have no interest....except when I stop and think about JF in cleats...or when he's all sweaty...or when its time to hit the showers. Mmmm....where...where am I?
OH. So yeah. They wait for me to join in. This has happened to me here before. Peeps were talking about marathon running and I just sat quietly n' listened, waiting till someone mentioned mac n' cheese.
Finally they had it. I was asked if I played any sports. I said none I cared to mention at work. Blank stares. I play volleyball and bocce ball. They seemed pleased and asked where I play. I specify that's its beach volleyball and that I fly out to San Diego to play with my team. We're called: Ball Deflators. I get a lot of wows and that's cool. I nod and say I know.
Damn. Why do people make me lie?? All, I'm trying to do is live my life. My life where I jog aggressively for trains and sprint across streets to procure hot dudes. We all can't be athletes...and we all can't be as sexy as me.
Oh snap. I'm back baby!

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Place Where I Work: Just What I Needed

It's funny how Hell skewed my perception of life. It made me not want to work, and that meant finding a rich douchebag to support my trivial lifestyle and want to write whilst sipping thick French cocoa.
I was awoken today by a call from one of my agencies about an assignment for the day. Since my only other option was sleeping and lounging around till Bones came on, I opted to earn money.
Thank HAY-SUS I know how to prioritize because this assignment has re-taught me the value of working...earning that dollar-while not ending up on a pole or performing some type of sexual act.
I knew things would be good when off the bat I was given bottled water and offered some GOOD coffee. Then I met LI Do or Die (the LI stands for Long Island). Have you ever looked at someone and became instantly enamored?? This happens to me more times than I'd like- hence the many walls I put up to keep bitches from cutting at my tender tender heart....
....SO LI Do or Die introduces herself to me, and I like her immediately because of her VERY pink blazer and strong Long Island accent. She is sarcastic and funny...and eats cup-o-noodles at her desk. LIDOD knows she has it going on, so underneath her blazer is a thin sweater with a hint of her flat tummy showing. LIDOD is in her late 30's early 40's- do you understand how amazing she is?? I imagine us going to Dallas BBQ after work. Ordering everything 'Texas sized'. LIDOD gives me life lessons...like when I start whining about a dude she'll say: did you let him know that he could put in you?
I'll blush and respond: no.
She'll roll her eyes at me and take a long drag of her cigarette (and THEY WILL let her smoke at this Dallas BBQ, eff Bloomberg) and she will say: then shut the fuck up. a man will never know anything unless YOU let him know he can put it in!
*sigh*
I was just content with knowing that LI Do or Die existed, but my day got better. Something about me and IT dudes, I think they can sense my inner nerd. Anyways, The Ladies Man- because he honestly spoke just like the Tim Meadows character 'the ladies man' comes into the office to follow-up on something he did yesterday. He see's me and turns his body away from me, yet he is still speaking to me. I find this fascinating! Along with the lisp and his fidgety use of his BlackBerry, it was confusing talking to him...but he was handsome, so I kept it pleasant.
Towards the end of our brief, awkward convo, he turns to face me FULL ON and says, "You are beautiful, I'm sorry, I just had to say that. You make me very nervous."
Awww. I smile and say 'thanks' n' 'oh geez'. He asks my name and says, "I won't remember that, so I'll just call you beautiful." WOW. Score 1 for THE LADIES MAN!!! Before he left for the day, he made a point to tell me how 'really beautiful' I am and I made a point not to ask him about some courvoseiur. :)

All in all, this is just what I needed to feel like me again and not some blank faced whore seeking out a rich douche. :) Win-win.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Monday Night Battle Night:Hating Positively

After learning more about the sub-prime crisis than EVER before, and meeting Rep. Maxine Waters- which was on the same level of meeting Chaka Khan (so fantastical). I was angry and filled the BAD kind of hate.
Do I do the usual hating on White people or just the rich White people?
No, I just do what I can to get my congress rep involved…and I eat amazing Korean food with Anto & 2 French dudes, and then hit up a monthly rap battle at Sin Sin.
It’s the ultimate taking a negative and making a positive…or using the energy for good, and I can hate so gooooooooood.
Some say it’s a gift. I think it keeps me from being tricked off on by life, people and my own delusions of grandeur.
I knew that if I was going to watch a rap battle, I would need a good meal for energy. Booing and heckling takes a lot out of me. The French dudes-Greg and Gate- had a taste for Asian. I suggested a good Korean spot I knew, and because I know meat-halt- I mentioned my FAVORITE dish on the menu being the beef (hahahha perfect for the evening) short ribs AKA galbi. The French seemed down and were impressed with my choice gaining me 20% of the French restaurant they plan on opening called Sacre Bleu- the name came from an unheard of (by the French) saying that some Americans think is French. I’ve never heard of this saying either- Greg says a dude yelled it during a football (soccer) game. Hmmm. Anyways, this will be the name of the French eatery filled with common French terms that Americans know. Anto won with: voulez vous poulet moi ce coir?
Besides gaining strength to hate-effectively, I was able to practice my French. I am not great, but I don’t suck. Just need to practice.

With full belly’s we were ready to take on the night, or enjoy the open bar at Sin Sin. All of us except Anto because he is celebrating Ramadan a lil later- due to his world travel and fuckery.:) Everyone’s favorite rabbi…uh, Rabbi Darkside was co-hosting the monthly rap battle, which includes a live band!
Though I secretly battle rap, I would not be taking part in the nights event mainly because I have no rhythm as it was painfully pointed out by Anto and The Darknesssesss- who are both White, which made me want to revoke the lil bit of Black (:P) I am!!!
…but I digress…I was excited to watch n’ heckle. The night would’ve been better if Anto, The Darkness or Grand Phizzle AKA my arch nemesis would’ve battled and I could’ve boo’d them too. Yes, some people cheer on their peeps, and I boo simply because they have ENOUGH people telling them how great they are…enough girls willing to fellate after one bar is said. I hate to keep them humble.:) See, it really is a gift that I use for good.
Grand Phizzle and his (rap) partner did perform and I maintained of look of disdain on my face. When GP saw this he tried to knock the glasses off my face, but didn’t succeed at that either. HA!
Oh and there was a point when The Darkness and I tried to get Anto to battle…with hate, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that The Darkness has a dirty, dirty mouth. I lost track of where I was as he whispered hateful things to say to Anto in my ear- a place where we (he and I) created (through sweaty body slappin’) the BETTER version of Drake…his name would be Treidel (a clever mix of Trey and dreidel because The Darkness is Jewish and I am Black, the same mix as Drake). Treidel would be the best that ever did it. Ever…hmmm…
…oh…
The battle begins, and I have to say…surprisingly… I was not impressed. Big SHOCK! I mean I like that there were topics so peeps had to think and know what was going on in the world….but part of the battle is being able to do that. A few actual pulled it off and even I had to give ‘em props. Notice I am being vague because I cannot remember names. :( I do know the guy who eventually won- that’s another thing, ALL DUDES. I really need to step up my battle game and SLAY these guys. SLAY!
…where was I?...Oh the battle champ, I think his name was Chaz or Chad….all I know he is part of a Van Damme (as in Jean-Claude Van Damme AKA one of my secret champs and whenever I feel the world is too much I put on a Van Damme movie-also I love the saying: Jean-Claude Van DAMN you fine!!) film club of some sort. They get together and watch a JVD film, Anto and I suggested they do the natural progression to Steven Segal once they are done with JVD. Chaz or Chad informed us about a movie involving JVD and…Rob Schneider. You would think that would be enough, but it gets better. They both work in fashion; JVD is a designer I believe. Um, my mouth was open and my Korean eyes were open as far as they could go (bless their souls). Then Chaz/Chad went on to say that Paul Sorvino is the villain (I KNOW)- wait for it- who has sent exploding jeans to JVD and Rob Schneider and they must stop him with karate. The film is called Knockoff and it will be added to my CLASSICS collection.
Needless to say, I didn’t care if Chaz/Chad could rhyme, he was a winner in my eyes and I mentally noted not to boo him even if he sucked.

Monday night battle night was filled with good hate, revelations and hip hop dance mockery- Gate (one of the French dudes) and I were on a roll! Actually, Anto, Gate and I entered Sin Sin each doing a robotic, slide n’ glide. It was pretty fantastic.
Mostly, it (Monday night battle night) was filled with good times and reminders that I am getting old….and must step my game up.

Monday, October 5, 2009

The Place Where I Work: I's Free!!!

I AM FREE!
Done! Shackles have loosened-not fully because I am still not doing what I WANT to do, but I am no longer in HELL!!! Yippee!

My final day involved a lighter personality on my part and Nate Berkus revealing that he hates Hell so much that he hated me for escaping! Wow. He was a total prick to me my last day, and I truly showed why I am scary-I guess because he spoke to me in a tone of voice that doesn't appeal to me. I've been told the heat of my anger seeps out of every pore of my body, and though I appear still and serene...and like I won't kill you. The scariest thing is, I just might.
I didn't have to say a word. Just turned in my chair and he walked away and didn't come around me for the rest of the day. It was an unspoken thing. No need for yelling.
A few seconds later George Clooney rolls by. Not THEE actual Clooney, just this dude that looked like him. He was a nice dude. Smiley-he's good with the small talk thing...well helps me practice because I SUCK at it. There must've a halo of anger around me (still) because even he was like 'woah'. Yep. He literally said...'woah'. I then remembered it WAS MY LAST DAY, and my mood lightened. Slightly. Only fully when I left the building!

The best thing about the day were the guards I befriended. One dude who knew my name by day 3 was saddened by me leaving because he was working up to asking me out. I tell him I am not dead and knowing my luck, I'll be in the area...or if its really meant to be, we'll bump into each other at a Starbucks and by then he'll be ready. He liked that.
Also, befriended some of the peeps that worked for the Today Show. They were impressed how I handled all my chance celeb meetings. Somehow they KNEW I would want to meet Mariah Carey. Dunno how they knew, but they did.
Anyways, because I can't have it all...my trains were late, the line at Starbucks was filled with too many Italian speaking Italians who didn't understand the concept of the apple fritter,....and I missed meeting MC. My Today Show peeps were like we tried, tried to stall, but its MC. I was sad. SAD!....then I remembered it was my last day in Hell. Slow, little smile.

A slightly overly moist cherry on top was TechSexy. He was supposed to be my office boo, but that got 86'd by his detailed facial hair. Homie AKA Honey T don't play that. Yeah, I liked NSYNC not BACKSTREET BOYS (known for the extra delicately detailed facial hair).
Needless to say, I had to get over him and have that doomed 'writer sex fantasy' with Nate Berkus.
TechSexy was really sweet my last day-not knowing it was my last. I wished I had more time with him... More time to mock him into leaving the detailing razor alone and just let that ish be. Love me some male scruff...and a maintained beard...but that overly styled ish makes me feel icky. Unfortunately, this being my blog...it truly is all about me. So ixnay the detailed beards-ay.